


Sharp Teeth, Sharp Eyes, or: The Boy-God and the Wolf

by thunder_rolled_a_six



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: 15 Days of FatT, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23309347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunder_rolled_a_six/pseuds/thunder_rolled_a_six
Summary: A fairy tale about Samot and Samothes.Au thought up by Linda (imperialhare on Twitter) and Muna (hellavarawr on Twitter) and extrapolated into fairytale by me. Thank you for your wonderful ideas!Here it is with some illustrations on twitter https://twitter.com/dancynrew/status/1242845332876099585?s=21
Relationships: Samot/Samothes (Friends at the Table)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Sharp Teeth, Sharp Eyes, or: The Boy-God and the Wolf

Some time very very long ago and in another place entirely there was a god who made things. He made swords and spears and shovels and rakes and buckets and books and blankets. He even made the sun, and then a very, very tall ladder to hang it in the sky! 

And though he made all these things, and many of each, the boy was shy of sharing. He would part with objects easy enough, but he kept his words close for fear that once others knew all that he did they would use the knowledge in ways unintended, or perhaps decide they had no use for him at all.

"A lonely life," the god's father teased.

"Perhaps," the god replied. "But I have all I need."

When the god needed to think of new ideas he would leave his home and walk in the world. The bigger the idea the farther he would go, and one day while looking for a particularly big idea he found he had strayed the farthest he ever had, through the dense forest and up into the mountains and right to the mouth of a deep and dark cave. 

"I am not afraid," said the god to the dark. 

"Whyever not?" Asked the dark of the god.

The god, being a god, did not flinch but only because he was very careful about it as the dark tore open in the shape of a wolf. The wolf had sharp teeth and sharp claws and sharp eyes and a very sharp grin. 

"You are alone out here," continued the wolf. "And very far from home. Why should you not fear?"

"I am a god. All I create is divine and new."

The grin, somehow, got sharper. "But you can still be afraid. Perhaps you should give me your fear."

The god frowned. "How can I do that?" 

"Think of it and give me it's name."

"My fear?" Even as the god said the words he could feel the feeling behind them slipping away. The wolf snapped it's jaws and then rolled to the ground, content.

"Thank you, boy," it grinned up at him. "Now without your fear, maybe you'll come back and bring me more pretty things. Go on now, before I decide to just eat you instead!"

The god hurried back down the mountain and through the forest to his home and spent the night sketching a new sort of lantern that would light up even the darkest spaces.

The god carried on for awhile as he always did, making things and reluctantly sharing them. But not more than a week had passed when he couldn't help but wander back through forest and up mountain. He had no fear of the place, after all.

"Wolf!" He cried to the dark. "Word eater!"

The wolf emerged from the darkness again. "Boy-god. You're back! Have you brought me more to eat?"

“I have.” The god had thought, whenever he wasn’t making new things, of what he might bring to the wolf. Though he had gobbled up fear it can’t have been the most pleasant meal. Outside the god’s workshop grew a bright yellow flower with almost more petals than it knew what to do with that had also bloomed near the house he’d grown up in with his father. “One thing with two names. Ranunculus, buttercup.” As he said the words he thought of his father naming the flowers for him long ago, and as with his fear the thought slowly slipped away.

The wolf let out a barking laugh and circled the god three times before gathering himself and retreating to the entrance of the cave. 

"Begone! Before I eat you as well! And bring me more delicious things!"

The god did as he was told, but when he went back to his workshop, there was nothing growing outside his door. He knew there ought to be something, but as much as he thought and thought, he couldn't imagine what it might be. 

"That wolf has tricked me!" He shouted to his empty workshop. It was very late at night by this time, and no one was around, but the god was angry and turned right back to go up the mountain again.

"Word eater!" He shouted at the dark.

"What," asked the wolf, rather grumpily. "I was asleep, you know."

"You took my… you stole… there used to be…"

"Something got your tongue?" The wolf grinned, eyes flashing a lovely violet.

"You did, wolf!"

"Hm, not yet, but if you don't bring me more words I might consider it! Run along!" And it snapped and snarled until the god had no choice but to return home. 

He stayed away for two weeks this time, fuming that the word eater had taken something he enjoyed so much, and more furious still that he himself had given it over so willingly. But the longer he stayed the more worried he became. What might the hungry wolf be eating, if he was not there to feed it? So the god set himself to what he did best, and made something new that wouldn't be missed in the jaws of a wolf.

He got to the cave midmorning the next day. "Still sleeping?"

"You came back. I was beginning to think you wouldn't."

"I didn't appreciate the trick, but I don't want you eating anything else in your hunger." The god threw to the ground a piece of paper, which the wolf promptly went to investigate.

"It's a drawing, of a sort of kettle I was going to make my father. It would keep the tea warm all day even after being taken away from the fire, because he always forgets he's brewed something till it's gone cold."

"You are a sentimental god," the wolf said quietly as the plans for the pot bled away from the world. 

"Merely practical."

"Hm. I'll see you again another day."

"Yes."

The wolf, in his cave, watched as the boy god walked away. He could just eat him at any time, of course, but this way, he thought, was much more interesting.

The god brought the wolf many more things. Some were more diagrams of inventions he never made or weren't very useful. Sometimes he brought a book and read it aloud to the word eater. He figured with so many words he would be sated for a good long while, but for some reason the god never found himself staying away for very long. 

The wolf sometimes gobbled up the words like a creature starved, but sometimes he saved the boy’s words to savor. Tea kettle and ranunculus and soft down and rose petals. Each was sweet as the peaches the god had brought him, and lovely as the poetry the boy read to him. He kept it all inside himself, greedy as the boy was to keep such things to him and him alone. Who else could appreciate them as he did?

The boy god’s visits grew longer and longer. The wolf sometimes was more boy shaped than wolf shaped, though both were just polite enough not to mention it. They sat in the mouth of the cave as the god gave and gave and gave and the wolf feasted, hearts and hands creeping closer to the other. 

The boy god, usually so eager to keep his work and words to himself found he wanted to give more and more until one day after much deep thought and careful consideration he climbed up the mountain empty handed. 

“Boy!” The wolf cried, joy in his sharp eyes. He did not ask after what he had brought because he did not much care for anything other than to see him.

“Wolf!” The boy god smiled. He was not nervous at all, sure of his gift. “Today I have brought you myself. I want to give you my name. I am Samothes.”

To Samothes’ dismay the wolf did not look delighted. He howled and cowered in the mouth of the cave before running forward and wrapping Samothes into an embrace. 

“No! No, you fool boy, don’t give me that! I won’t eat it!” 

“Why not!” The boy god demanded. “Wolf, why won’t you eat it if I love you so, and give it willingly!”

The wolf thought of devouring the god, keeping him inside himself locked away, and was struck with a loneliness so bone deep he began to howl again. 

"Leave!" He growled, pushing the boy away. "Leave here! Never return!" 

The boy god who's name the wolf refused to even think stumbled back at the wolf's yelling, and then kept stumbling, running back down the long slope as his heart cracked and crumbled.

The wolf did some stumbling of his own, out of his cave-home and into the woods, careful to go a different direction than his beloved fool god. The wolf ran on feet and paws and hands and claws till he was too tired to run a step further and sank to his knees in the green and the dirt. 

"This isn't fair!" He cried to the trees and all the living things rustling in them. "Why can't I be a boy or a god and not have to gobble him up to nothing!"

Now, the wolf had thoughts as sharp as his claws and his grin, and after he said this he stood right up and wiped his tears away.

"I'll just become one, then," he announced to woods, all confidence and determination.

The wolf wasn't sure exactly how to go about this, but Samothes had read him many stories about humans, and about things becoming other things, so he figured to start he would try to eat not a word but a thing a person might eat. He wandered through the woods, sniffing at this plant and that berry, till he found one that seemed as good as anything and bit down. Juice rolled down his chin and flavor like he'd only stolen from others exploded on his tongue, but though he ate till he was full he felt no different after. 

Figuring he'd probably need magic of some sort, the wolf set out to find some. He wandered in the woods for days (eating more berries and plants along the way, just in case) and though the life of the forest seemed plenty magic he couldn't figure out how to make any of it do what he wanted. So he kept searching till he came across a town where he thought people might know an answer he did not. He was still very sharp, though, and the people there mostly regarded him with the sort of fear Samothes had on his first visit to the cave. 

Pushing all thoughts of the townsfolk (and of Samothes) from his mind, the determined wolf set back off again. 

He wandered and wandered through trees that seemed endless and the days grew long and short and long again as he searched. He was too sure, too patient to give up, but things were looking rather hopeless when one warm afternoon he came upon a very old house in a very old part of the forest. From the house came the sound of a guitar and the smell of something good to eat. The wolf's stomach growled.

"Hello!" He shouted. He was  not afraid. After some minutes and some loud grumbling an old man with leaves in his white hair came around the house.

"Why're you shouting?" He asked the wolf.

The wolf supposed that someone who lived so far in the greenery must have some sort of magic, and so squared his shoulders.

"I am looking for magic and I thought that you might have some."

The old man smiled. It did not look sharp, but the wolf knew how to recognize sharp things, being one himself. "What do you need magic for, wolf?"

"I want to be a boy, or perhaps a god."

The old man laughed. "lofty goals."

"Only practical. All I know is to eat, andI want so much more."

The old man hummed, looking thoughtful. "I may know the magic you seek. But first come have dinner with me. Food's almost ready, and I can see you've come a long way."

The wolf ate dinner and it was the best food he had ever tasted. After the meal the old man insisted they both rest. "You've done so much searching after all."

The wolf was very tired, now that he thought about it.

The old men lead him to a spare room. "You may sleep here, and you may call me Samol.''

The wolf startled. "You trust me with your name? So easily?"

"You seem like a good sort, and I am a very good judge of character. Good night, wolf."

"Good night, Samol."

The sun rose early the next day, and with it Samol, and with Samol the wolf. They ate breakfast in companionable silence. When Samol washed the dishes the wolf helped, wanting to make a good impression. Samol smiled in his soft-sharp way.

"How about you help me in the garden, wolf? The magic will wait."

The wolf was eager, but still very patient, and the two went into the garden together. They worked the morning away. The wolf remembered the boy god's second gift, the many petaled flower, and soon buttercups sprang up where he worked in the dirt. The old man laughed again, and the wolf found himself laughing along. 

"Thats a neat trick, little wolf." 

"I didn't know I could do it," the wolf replied, looking at the bright yellow flowers.

After gardening came lunch, of course, and then more chores around the house. The two worked so long that all they could do was eat dinner and go right to bed.

The next morning brought more things to do, as is true of most mornings. The wolf thought to ask again of magic, but was quickly too busy reorganizing the library. Staring at the books all day reminded him of the ones Samothes had read to him, and he began to tell the stories to Samol as they worked. The wolf talked and talked, hardly pausing for lunch and dinner. Late into the night the wolf shared stories as Samol played his guitar, until he practically nodded off in the chair he sat in next to the fire and Samol shooed him off to bed. 

They continued on like this, working together and sharing stories. The wolf would almost ask after magic again but there was always something more to do. Days passed slowly, in good company, as the wolf helped Samol around the house and shared all he had devoured. Samol would always let his tea grow cold and the wolf would make him a new mug, remembering the plan for a kettle that would keep it warm all day. Being a wolf and not a god who creates things he didn't know exactly how to make it himself, but he started collecting bits and pieces he thought might be useful for it and working on it when he figured Samol was distracted.

Time was a funny thing at that house, in those woods, and the wolf couldn't say exactly how much had passed when all the eaten stories had been told and the kettle had been made as best he could manage. He woke very early, and tied it up pretty with a blue ribbon and waited for Samol, his friend, to awake.

"Little wolf, what's this?" The old man asked in surprise.

"It will keep your tea warm all day, even if you forget it."

Samol smiled, all soft. "That's very kind, little wolf."

"You have been very kind to me..."

"But?"

"But I came here for magic, to become something that doesn't need to devour."

"Little wolf... My little wolf, my silly boy, all you've done since you've been here is give. You didn't need my help at all." 

The wolf, the boy, blinked and looked down at his hands. Rough here and there from steady work, but not claws.

"Oh!" The wolf cried. "Samol, is it true?" 

Samol smiled and wrapped the boy in his arms. "True as anything. You're as much boy or god or wolf as I." 

The boy lept about the kitchen in delight. "Oh! Oh! I have to go find him, my boy god, my Samothes!"

Samol laughed. "Just you wait here, I have a feeling he won't be long now."

For of course the old man Samol was Samothes the boy-god’s father, and knew in the way he knew most everything that his son had been wandering heartbroken since the day the wolf had rejected him, and would sooner or later wander home to complain to his father about it. And sure enough only a handful of days passed until there was a knock at the door, and a lonely god standing behind it. 

Samol let his son inside and before the boy could say a word he told him with agrin that there was a surprise waiting for him in the kitchen. And what did he find when he went to look? His wolf, eyes still sharp with blond curls in a mess around his head and a few bandaged fingers from household chore mishaps. A boy now, a god.

“My wolf!”

“My Samothes!”

The two embraced, with newly gentle arms. 

“I won’t eat you up any longer! I’ll just love you instead!” The wolf declared. “And I have decided to take your name after all!”

“Oh?” The boy god asked, too happy for any more words. 

“Yes! You are Samothes, and I will be Samot.” 

“A lovely name.” 

The two held hands all through the day and through dinner and through the night and in hardly any days at all but still too many for either of their liking they were married. Samot gave Samothes his wolf fur cloak to wear, and his love, and they kissed and kissed and kissed and they lived lives happier for having the other in them.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
